


Sweet Escape

by rizlowwritessortof



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizlowwritessortof/pseuds/rizlowwritessortof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when a friend jokingly does a spell at your birthday party to bring your cardboard standup of Dean Winchester to life? This one's dedicated to my friend Liz, who gave me the idea :) If only... (Reader's perspective)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's one a.m. when you stumble, exhausted and half-drunk, through your door, a smile still on your face. It was a great birthday, your friends are awesome, dinner was awesome, everything is awesome, it was so much fun and hopefully that will linger on in the morning through the fog of a (hopefully) mild hangover.

Gag gifts galore, obscene birthday cards, bottles of booze and a drinking straw shaped like a penis land on your kitchen counter as you unload all your 30th birthday gifts. You pull the sparkling tiara from your hair, its feathers and glitter littering the countertop, the battery-operated lights on the 'Thirty but still flirty' at the end of their short lives. Thirty's not so bad, right?

You drop your purse on the desk, and the crumpled napkin sticking out catches your attention. A confused frown draws your brows together as you pull it out, smoothing it flat so you can read the writing. Oh... right. Some weird little ritual made up by your friend Liz, a strange symbol and some Latin-sounding words. She had given you a hard time all night about the gift you had given yourself, a life-sized cardboard stand-up of Dean Winchester from the show Supernatural, teasing you that you needed a real man, and if he was the only one you were interested in, she would bring him to life. Then she had drawn that symbol, performed a little ceremony (involving the penis straw) as you all laughed hysterically, and you had shoved the napkin in your purse as a keepsake. "If only," you think to yourself, smiling as you slip your shoes off and pad barefoot to your bedroom.

After a quick shower, you walk back into the bedroom to grab a comfy old t-shirt from the drawer, ready to crawl between the sheets and give in to your exhaustion. You slip your panties on, and as you straighten, you have the strangest feeling that you're being watched. You turn your head slowly, and jump slightly as your cardboard Dean stares back at you from the corner. You laugh softly at yourself as you turn back, slipping the shirt on and shaking your head. You still weren't used to it standing there, and it had startled you a few times in the last couple of days. You turn and walk up to it, looking up into his vivid green eyes, and giggle, still a little tipsy, as you run a finger down his chest. "Goodnight, Dean," you say softly, and turn to crawl into your bed, snuggling under the soft Egyptian cotton sheets and down comforter. You sigh contentedly as you burrow under the covers, and in the back of your mind you hear a whispered "Goodnight, baby" in answer. The thought makes you smile as you drift off to sleep, your last thoughts of Dean.

You wake slowly with a dull pounding in your head, a dry mouth, and the nagging feeling that something is missing. But your head is too muddled to put your finger on it, and you chalk it up to a fading dream.

You pull on some sweats and drag yourself to the kitchen to make coffee and toast, hoping it will revive you. You're on your first cup when your phone rings, and you answer it to hear Liz's way-too-chipper voice on the other end. "Hey, birthday girl! Just checking to see if you had mad, passionate sex with your cardboard god last night!"

You join in her laughter as you answer. "Oh, yes, he kept me up all night long. I wish!" You chat for a bit and then make plans to go to lunch and shop later in the day, after you've had a chance to wake up and rehydrate.

It's mid-evening when you finally make your way home, arms loaded with bags. "Note to self - definitely a bad idea to go shopping with Liz," you mutter to yourself as you somehow manage to get the bedroom door open, dropping your newly purchased bounty everywhere, flexing your aching fingers and arms. A couple of pairs of shoes, some new lingerie, several additions to your closet and a sexy new perfume, still in their wrappings and bags, are now scattered over your floor, and you push them aside with your foot, slipping your (thankfully) comfortable Skechers off as you sigh with relief.

You pull the clip from your hair and let the heavy mass fall to just past your shoulders, running your fingers through it, then unbuttoning your denim shirt as you prepare to get comfortable. You smile as the memory of a shared joke comes back to you, reaching to the back of your neck, the muscles knotted and sore from lugging all those packages...

The touch of someone's hand on your shoulder numbs you with terror, and you scream, emptying your lungs, sucking in another deep breath to scream again as you whirl around, panic making any rational thought impossible. Your eyes focus on a pair of large hands, held up in the air, a broad chest and a pair of shoulders to match. As you back into the dresser, you let your gaze travel farther up to his face, and shock renders you speechless; you are vaguely aware of your body going cold before the room tilts and fades to black.

* * *

Your eyes flutter open, your vision blurred. You feel a cool cloth on your forehead, a warm hand on your wrist, fingers pressing on your pulse point. The face before you comes into focus, and you stare, mouth open, for a split second before squeezing your eyes shut. You are dreaming. You are in a coma, you had a stroke or something, and this is all a hallucination.

You open your eyes just a fraction as you hear a soft laugh. "It's okay, you can open your eyes. I'm really here."

You squeeze your eyelids shut tight as you answer defiantly, "No, you're not. I'm unconscious, or dead. Or I've completely lost my mind. You are not really here."

"Oh, I'm really here." His voice is gentle, but firm. You feel him bend closer, and you hear him say your name softly, his breath warm against your ear. "Open your eyes, sweetheart. I promise you, I'm not here to hurt you. Anything but, in fact."

You open your eyes slowly and look into Dean Winchester's fanfiction green eyes, fringed by the thick, gorgeous eyelashes you've swooned over, and those fabulously lush lips curve in a smile as he stares intently back at you. You shake your head as you protest again. "No. I paid $35.00 for you. I have lost my freaking mind. I finally snapped. I'm gonna be wearing a hug-me jacket in a room full of bed. Completely bonkers..."

He lays two fingers gently across your lips to silence your babbling. "You're not crazy."

You stare up at him as he removes his hand from your face, silent for a moment. "What's your name?" you blurt out before you can give yourself time to think.

"Dean Winchester."

Your eyes flick to the corner of your room. Cardboard Dean is not standing in his usual place. This... This is insane. "You? You're... No, youcan't be. Dean Winchester is a fictional character."

"I am Dean Winchester."

"You're my... my cardboard Dean?"

Another low chuckle. "Well, not at the moment." You struggle to sit up, but a strong hand on your shoulder stops you. "Just take it easy."

"You just... You just turned into a real boy?" you ask sarcastically, still in shock. "That's impossible. That can't happen. I'm freaking dreaming." You pinch your own arm, shouting, "Wake up!"

A gentle grip on your arms makes you look up into those impossibly green eyes once again. "I told you, you're not dreaming. I'm here. Flesh and blood. For now."

"How the hell does something like that happen? Huh? Cardboard pictures of fictional TV characters don't just suddenly come to life!"

"Not without some help, no."

"Help?" You stare at him in confusion. "What kind of help?"

"Someone performed a ritual. It's not that hard. The right symbols, a little incantation, some very specific requests..." His eyebrow raises suggestively as he grins, and you scoot away from him on the bed, sitting up to face him.

"That ritual was a joke! It didn't mean anything! It was just my friend, making a joke! We wouldn't have a clue how to... conjure you up out of thin air!"

"And then there's your, um... desire." You sputter helplessly as he grins again. "I've been here for, what - a week or so? You wanted this. You wanted this bad." Your mouth drops open as you feel yourself blush, then you clamp your jaw shut and glare hotly at him, teeth clenched, furious with yourself, or him, and you're not sure which. "I'm here because you want me to be here, sweetheart. Your thoughts, your needs, those are what brought me to life. I'm here for you."

The quick flash of embarrassed anger fades as you look back at him, your mind still arguing that this is not, cannot be, real. He reaches out to you, slowly, waiting for you to take his hand. You watch warily for a moment, but you finally put your hand in his, and he slowly pulls you back towards him. "Turn around," he says softly, and you stare up at him unmoving. "Trust me," he whispers, and you rather reluctantly turn your back to him as he sits on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips with his weight, and he brushes your hair aside; his hands are strong, firm, yet gentle as he kneads the tense, knotted muscles of your neck and shoulders. You gradually relax in spite of yourself, let your chin drop to your chest, sighing with pleasant relief, the knots vanishing beneath his fingers, and you surrender yourself, for the moment, to whatever it is that's happening. If this is a dream - you hope you never wake.

After a few moments, he stops, his hands sliding down your upper arms before their warmth leaves you, and you feel his lips touch the base of your neck. "Better?" he murmurs against your skin, and you shiver slightly as you nod. "Now do you believe I'm real?"

You remain silent, and he doesn't move, waiting for an answer. Finally, you whisper, "It's all just too... surreal."

His hands squeeze your waist as he bends to place a soft kiss on your neck, and you fight the urge to just lay back against his chest. "Why don't you finish getting ready for bed? I just want to hold you." He bends to nuzzle his face into your hair, his breath warm as he whispers near your ear, "Well, I want to do more than that... but I don't think you're ready."

You shiver, and he moves away from you again, his hands move from your waist, and he stands. You glance up at him, still wondering if you should call someone to take you in for evaluation, but he's still there, and you can physically feel him as you brush past, grabbing your pajamas on the way to the bathroom. No way are you changing in front of him... and you shake your head again at how ridiculous that sounds, refusing to undress in front of what's probably a figment of your overstimulated imagination. You just can't make yourself believe this is really happening, but there's no other way to explain it. Tomorrow, you will call Liz, ask her where she found the words and symbol she used, find out if there's really something to it. For now, you're just going to very cautiously go with it, and when you wake up in the morning and he's just a cardboard figure in your corner, you'll know it was all a crazy dream. Or that you got slipped some LSD at the mall. Or that you're losing your ever-loving mind.

You walk out of the bathroom in your usual tank top and shorts, and he's still standing there, hands in his pockets, just like the cardboard standup that he's supposed to be. His eyes travel down your body, then back up, slowly, locking onto yours as an appreciative smile curves his lips. You take a tremulous breath, then walk to the bed, folding back the covers, and crawling in. You turn your back to him, squeezing your eyes shut as you wait breathlessly for him to act. You feel the bed give as he first sits down, then you hear his boots thud as they hit the floor.

He lays down, turning to curl up behind you, whispering for you to lift your head as he slips an arm beneath your neck. His other arm drapes over you, and youare being cradled against him, his arms surrounding you as his head shares your pillow. He bends to kiss your shoulder, and says a soft, "Goodnight, baby," before letting out a contented sigh and settling in. As the moments go by, you relax cautiously against him, and you're surprised at the feelings that flood through you. You feel safe, protected... and before long, you drift off to sleep in spite of yourself.

* * *

Your alarm goes off, softly, urging you into awareness as you roll to your back. You stop as you remember the night before, and realize that Dean's warm body and the arms that had surrounded you are gone. You almost hold your breath as you slide your eyes slowly to the corner... Cardboard Dean stares back at you, barely visible in the new morning light, barely brightening the sky. "I knew it," you whisper, and choke back a wave of sharp disappointment as you look back at him. "I knew it," you say more defiantly at his face, then shake your head as you swing your legs around and stand up. You tell yourself that the feeling of loss is silly, ridiculous, and that you have to tell Liz about the dream her little 'spell' conjured up for you. As you head for the shower, you are convinced that it was all a very vivid dream.

Work is so busy that you don't have time to think about anything but spreadsheets and the report your boss wants on his desk ASAP, and the day flies by in a flurry of paperwork, phone calls and meetings.

You unlock your door and walk in, kicking off your heels as you swing the door closed behind you and lock it, walking barefoot to the kitchen to grab a cold beer from the fridge. Tossing the lid in the trash, you head for your bedroom to change into your comfy at-home clothes, taking a long pull from the bottle and setting it down on the dresser. You've unbuttoned the top button of your blouse when you hear that voice, the one you convinced yourself wasn't real. Dean Winchester's voice.

"You wear that to work every day? 'Cuz damn, you look good enough to eat."

You find yourself breathing quick and hard, panic blooming in your belly and your heart pounding in your ears as you slowly turn around. Tears fill your eyes, and the salacious grin on his face fades.

"No, sweetheart..." He approaches you carefully, aware of the wild look in your eyes, the tears sparkling there, and he reaches out to put a hand to your face, barely touching you as he continues. "Don't cry. Please. I didn't mean to scare you."

"You were gone. This morning. You were gone." You push away from the dresser and move across the room, dropping down on the edge of the bed, your hands on your head as you try to reconcile what's happening with reality as you know it.

"I was gone because the sun came up. Sundown to sunrise. That's all the time I have with you. That's what the spell said."

You look up at him as he comes closer, then sits next to you. You drop your arms to your sides, letting your body fall back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as a tear escapes and runs down your cheek, barely missing your ear. You feel his finger run along your skin, lifting the tear from your face as he reclines next to you, leaning on his elbow as he looks down into your face. "I told you before, I'm not here to cause you pain. I'm here to take care of you. Whatever you need, sweetheart. That's all I want, to give you what you want."

You look up, meet his steady scrutiny, and his hand reaches slowly towards your face again. He runs his fingers down over your cheek, tilting his head a little as he stares at your lips, then traces over them with his thumb, and you hold your breath, almost afraid to move. Inch by inch he draws closer, until finally his lips, warm and soft, touch yours. His tongue teases at you until you sigh and open to him, and he slips his arm beneath you, turning you to your side and pulling you closer as the kiss deepens and you give yourself over to this fantasy come to life.

You breathe him in, your head spinning as your senses flood you with his scent, his taste, his touch, overwhelming you. He does nothing more than hold you close, one arm around your waist, one hand behind your neck, his fingers gliding through your hair, his lips becoming your whole world as he focuses intently on kissing you like you've never even dreamed of being kissed. After several minutes he finally pulls back slightly, his tongue gliding over his lips as you stare into his eyes, unable to form words. His hand moves to your face again, gently stroking over your cheek, and you unconsciously lean into his touch. He gives you a crooked little smile, his eyes traveling over your face, as he whispers, "There you are."

Confusion fills your eyes as you look back at him. "I... I don't understand..."

"You're really here now. You believe. You finally believe." His fingers continue to stroke over your cheek, his eyes, their green depths now dark and intense, still staring into yours. "And now, maybe..." he whispers, his fingers trailing along your jaw line, over your throat, following the neckline of your blouse and stopping at the first button still fastened, "you can admit that you want me the way I want you." He kisses you again, softly, as his fingers deftly work to undo the next button, and he looks down at you again, his lips parted and his gaze setting your blood on fire. "You do, don't you?"

You nod, your heart pounding as he continues to unbutton your blouse, his fingers warm as they brush against your skin. He smiles, shaking his head.

"Say it, sweetheart. Say my name, show me you really believe."

You're trembling as he finishes the last button, draping the silky material so that it lays open before him, and his eyes take you in hungrily as you draw a shaking breath. "Dean. Dean... I want you. More than anything."

A wave of warmth washes over you as his eyes begin to devour you, his hand gliding down your neck, over your chest, his fingers caressing the soft mounds of your breasts, and he lowers himself down to kiss along the edge of your bra, his breath hot as he murmurs sweet words against your skin. You feel him hard against your hip, and you make small, helpless sounds as he circles a finger over a nipple, sensitive to his touch even though you're still covered. His other hand slips up your back, causing a shiver, and you can feel him smile, nuzzling his face between your breasts as he unclasps your bra.

He stops for a moment, kissing your lips again, then stands slowly, taking your hands to pull you up to stand with him. You look up at him as he slips your blouse from your shoulders and it pools on the floor, followed by your bra. "Do you even know?" he whispers, reaching behind you to slide the zipper of your skirt down, letting it drop to the floor around your feet. "Do you know how beautiful you are?" He goes to his knees in front of you, his hands skimming down your thighs, your calves, lifting each foot to help you step out of the skirt, then gliding back up, his eyes drinking you in as they travel up your body along with his hands. He leans in to place a soft kiss on your belly, and you feel yourself quiver. He does it again, and you whisper his name as his hands glide up your curves to the top of your panties, his fingers grasping and pulling them down, and you put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, feeling suddenly very weak. He continues kissing the soft skin near your navel as your panties join the rest of your clothing on the floor. He moves one hand up your inner thigh, nipping at your stomach as he runs a finger gently over you, a soft growl in his throat as he glides over your wet warmth, caressing, exploring, setting your blood on fire.

He stands back up slowly, his gaze burning into yours, and pulls his shirt off, tossing it behind him, followed by his t-shirt. You reach a trembling hand to touch his tattoo, tracing over it as his hands clench and unclench at his sides with the effort of not touching you, letting you explore him. You trail your fingers over his chest, down the hard muscles of his abs, until you reach the button of his jeans and undo it, then slide the zipper down. He hisses in a breath as your fingers slip inside the waist of his boxers, pulling them downward. He helps, letting them fall and stepping out of them. You watch his face as you reach out, caressing the hot, smooth length of him, and his eyes close as he moans your name softly.

He bends to crush your lips beneath his, pulling you tight against him, his hands gripping your hips, and you raise your arms around his neck, almost faint at the sensation of his warm, smooth skin against yours, his erection shoved hard against you. He finally stops, leaving you breathless as he takes your hand, urging you onto the bed, laying you back against the pillows before taking your face in his hands and kissing you hard. He raises his head, breathing hard as he skims his fingers up the inside of your thighs, parting them as he moves farther down, kissing your breasts and down your belly until he reaches his goal, his tongue moving over your folds as he sighs with satisfaction and you shudder at his touch. "Dean... oh, god..." you sigh as he tastes you thoroughly, his tongue moving over you, memorizing you, plunging briefly inside you before he slips a finger, then two, into your hot core. You are squirming beneath him now, soft whimpers escaping your lips, and he reaches his free hand to lace his fingers with yours, letting you grip his hand tightly as you start to lose control. You cry out as his tongue and fingers work their magic, converging into one white-hot surge of pleasure. Your entire being quakes with the intensity of your climax; he coaxes your body through it, prolonging the intensity, and easing you back as it wanes, leaving you weak and trembling.

He takes his time now, kissing his way back up your body, stopping to tease lovingly at your breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth as he tugs gently at the other, and you lay there helplessly moaning as you clutch weakly at the sheets. He finally makes his way up to your neck, nipping and sucking softly, whispering into your ear, "That was beautiful," and he nibbles your earlobe as he continues. "Now I want to be inside you, baby. Do you want me inside you?"

You're almost on the edge again as you answer, "Yes, Dean... yes...," and you feel him nudging your entrance. He pushes forward, slowly, so slowly, until you are complete, one with him, and you feel his body shudder as he stops for a moment and captures your lips with his. You feel him twitch inside you as he fights for control, kissing you almost desperately, until you can control it no longer, your hips move against his and he moans loudly, letting himself go. You meet each thrust as he drives into you, both of you moaning and grunting with the force you create, and you are almost sobbing as you feel yourself coming apart again, for a few seconds becoming nothing but light and heat, fierce, violent and all-consuming. You hear a scream fading away, and wonder vaguely if it was you, and then you are back to yourself, your body still quaking around Dean as he shouts your name and fills you with his own heat before collapsing, trembling, on top of you.

You both lay there for a few moments, unable and unwilling to move yet, and you still spasm, your body still clutching at him, slow to relax after the intensity of your orgasm. He moans softly each time, his hips thrusting weakly in answer, until you both finally come down completely from your highs. He finally moves from you slowly, and you both make small noises of protest as he leaves you, collapsing next to you on the bed. He moves his arm and pulls you close, and you rest your head on his chest, your leg over his, your bodies still slick with sweat as he surrounds you with his arms, kissing your forehead. He reaches to tilt your face up, looking into your eyes for a long moment before kissing you tenderly, almost longingly, then pulling the covers over you both and holding you tight.

You lie in his arms, completely sated, content in a way you've never felt before, and you revel in his every touch, every small stroke of his hand or flex of his arms around you. You finally speak, soft, hesitant. "Dean?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"This sounds strange, crazy probably, considering the circumstances... But, is this just physical for you? I mean, do you - can you, even - care about me? At all? I... I just need to know."

He looks down at you, his green eyes warm as you move back so you can see his face, and his thumb strokes your cheek gently as he answers. "I need you just as much as you need me, sweetheart." He bends to kiss you softly, then stares into your eyes again. "I care. Believe me... I care."

As you settle back into his arms once again, you smile, and he laughs quietly. "What?" he asks as your smile widens.

"I was just thinking. Tomorrow I should send Liz flowers."


	2. Chapter 2

What an asshole.

You walk fast, anger speeding your steps, your heels loud on the concrete of the parking garage, unlocking the car as you approach it. You jerk open the door and climb inside, slamming it shut, ignoring the voice of your boss in the distance behind you as you rev the engine. You pull out and drive towards the entrance, not even looking to see him stop, out of breath, giving up on trying to catch you.

You put on some hard-driving classic rock, cranking the volume as you waste no time heading for home. One of Dean's famous massages might be just what you need tonight. Or something a little more athletic, the way you were feeling at the moment.

You pull into your garage, still furious, slamming the door as you get out, entering the house through the connecting door. Your purse gets tossed heedlessly at the kitchen counter as you stride through, intent on getting to your bedroom and changing, then hitting the bar in the living room.

You open the door to your room, taking a few steps in, but before you can call out a greeting to Dean, you find yourself pinned against the wall, Dean's hard body holding you in place, his lips colliding with yours. You push against his chest, although not with much conviction, but he growls softly and pins your hands above your head with one large hand, his other pulling at your blouse until he slips beneath and captures your breast. He grinds himself against you, and moans at the noise you make, his tongue assaulting your mouth as he devours the whimper trying to escape your lips. Then his hand moves, running boldly up your thigh, pushing your skirt up until he can shove his hand between your legs, rubbing hard against you, your cries muffled in his kiss.

His fingers slip beneath your panties as he lifts his head, both of you panting as if you had run a marathon, and he bends to nip at your neck, then whispers in your ear. "I could sense you before you even got close to home. You need this, don't you, baby?"

You almost whine his name as he shoves his fingers inside, curling them against you, and the heel of his hand creates a rough pressure in exactly the right spot, his other hand still pinning your wrists to the wall above you. His teeth are nipping at your neck as he rubs himself against your hip, and a low, sexy laugh rumbles in his chest as you cry out, unable to keep yourself from thrusting against him, trying to increase the friction that will give you release. Then, suddenly, his hand is gone, and he's pulling you towards the bed, crushing you to his chest as he kisses you, hard. He looks into your eyes for a split second, then lays you face down over the soft surface, yanking your underwear down as he holds your shoulder in place with his other hand. Once your panties are gone, you hear his zipper and soon you feel him, hot and throbbing, between your legs.

"Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop," he whispers next to your ear, rubbing himself over your entrance, but waiting for an answer before he allows himself to penetrate you.

You're almost crying with need, unable to speak other than a whimpered, "Please, Dean," but that's all he needs to hear as he drives into you, his hand gripping your hip hard, but you don't even feel the pain. You can do nothing but moan incoherently, sometimes his name, sometimes just sounds, the impact of his violent thrusts forcing them from your throat. You shudder and shout as you come, your body clenching so tight around him that he cries out with you, and it drives him on to go faster, harder, until he lets out a feral growl with the explosion that shakes him to his core before he collapses, unable to move for a few moments.

Dean finally stands, pulling himself from you, and you lay there, spent, unmoving. He bends to kiss your neck softly, slipping his arms around you and lifting you onto the bed. You lie there, eyes closed, letting him gently remove your heels and finish undressing you and then himself, then surrounding you with his arms before pulling the covers up over you both. He kisses your nose, your lashes, then your lips before drawing you close, holding you tight as you burst into tears, the anger and stress of the day finally leaving you.

He drops soft kisses on your head, your face, his hands gently caressing you as he cradles you on his chest, until you finally calm down, lying exhausted in his embrace. He just holds you for a time, quietly, before finally asking, "What happened today, baby?"

You shiver as you press yourself closer to his warmth. "I've never been so angry..." You stop for a moment, squeezing him tight, and he responds in kind.

You tell him everything, the work you did to prepare for the meeting with the shareholders, the huge work load you'd been carrying for the last couple of weeks, and the lack of appreciation from your boss. But the clincher was the meeting earlier in the day, when the heads of the company demanded a report that hadn't been requested of you, and your boss, apparently in an effort to save his own skin, had blamed you, making a remark to the gathering at large that it was hard to find good help, leaving you humiliated in front of some of the top executives of the company. And when the meeting had adjourned, you had marched to your desk, grabbed your things, and left without a word, ignoring the gutless wonder calling your name and trying to catch you as you stormed out.

"Son of a bitch. Want me to teach him a lesson?" Dean asks, his voice soft but tense with anger, his fingers gliding up and down your arm as his other hand strokes your hair.

You almost laugh, shaking your head. "Thanks, but no."

He turns to his side, sliding down so he can look you in the eye, his fingers still caressing your hair as he leans in to kiss you. "I... um... I shouldn't have been so rough with you. You were wound so tight, I knew you needed to let it out. And I won't lie, I enjoyed it. But I never meant to hurt you. I'm afraid I might have left some marks."

You smile, sighing softly as his hand ghosts over your nipple. "I'm fine Dean, I promise." You squirm as he plucks gently at the sensitive nub, his lips nibbling at yours, his tongue teasing at them until you open to him, letting the sensations wash over you. You feel him growing hard against you once again, and you wonder what you ever did without him. Before the spell, before he became real, your dusk to dawn fantasy lover.

He lets his kisses begin to trail down, over your throat, across your shoulders, down your chest until he can take a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking softly but insistently over it as his hand cups the other breast. You lie back, letting the arousal flow over you in waves, reaching for him, feeling his muscles clench as you glide your hand over the smooth, hot length of him. You pump him, reveling in the sounds he makes, the hungry way he touches you.

He moves over you, taking your lips captive once more, and he never stops kissing you as he fills you slowly, completely. He sets a slow, delicious pace as he glides in and out smoothly, rocking his hips to make sure he brushes against you right where you need him, his hands caressing you and teasing you, seemingly everywhere at once. You're getting close, and he senses it, slanting his mouth against yours, his hands gripping your thighs as he pistons faster and harder, shuddering his release just as you begin to spasm around him, shaking uncontrollably with your second mind-blowing orgasm of the night. He works you through it, only stopping when you have finished quaking, relaxing completely beneath him.

You lay there, blissfully aware of the touch of his lips and hands on your body, soft words against your skin, his heavenly warmth as he holds you like you are a precious thing. You whisper, "I love you," as you drift off, the words barely a breath, but he hears. And you sleep like a baby as he stares, wide awake, at the ceiling, your words warming his heart.

Your alarm goes off the next morning, and you groan as you reach for the snooze button. You weren't going anywhere near that place today, anyway. You'd email them and tell them you had a migraine or something. You turn back into the warmth of Dean's arms, snuggling closer, sighing contentedly. And then your eyes fly open wide, and you shoot upright in the bed. You look towards the corner where cardboard Dean stands every morning, reminding you that it's all temporary, an illusion. But he's not there, and the flesh and blood version is still sleeping peacefully beside you.

You reach out and roughly shake his shoulder. "Dean! Dean?"

He moans a little grumpily, his eyes slowly opening. "What?"

"Dean! It's daylight. You're still here," you almost whisper. "What's going on?"

His eyes open slowly, and he looks up at you, the picture of adorable sleepiness. "I don't know." He rubs the back of his hand over his eyes.

You pull away from him and crawl out of bed, completely ignoring the fact that you're naked, and rush to the little desk in the corner, pulling open the drawer and digging around until you find the napkin that the spell had been written on. "I don't understand."

"You don't understand what?" He raises himself up, propped on his elbows, gazing at you while you read the words of the spell.

"He'll come to you from dusk till dawn, till true love comes, then he'll be gone."

Dean stares at you silently for a moment. "Well, you did say you loved me."

You look at him incredulously. "I didn't."

He nods. "Yeah. You did."

You frown, your face growing hot. "I did not!"

Now a smirk is curving his lips, and he nods again. "Yeah. You were almost asleep, but you said it."

You look away, staring at the far wall, not sure whether to be embarrassed or relieved. You've told yourself over and over that you couldn't love him, that he wasn't real, that he couldn't love you back... But last night your defenses were down and it slipped out, and it was too late to take it back.

"Even if I did..."

"You did."

You glare at him for a second before continuing. "Even if I did, why would that change things?"

"I don't know. Now come back here," he almost moans, staring at you. You blush as you realize why, and reluctantly walk back to the bed, sitting on the edge with the napkin still in your hand.

"What does this mean?"

"Right now it means I've got a hard-on the size of Texas, so will you just come here?"

You turn with a little smirk on your face, looking over your shoulder at him. "Alaska's bigger." Dean narrows his eyes at you, an evil smile on his lips as he grabs you, pulling you back towards him as he tickles you breathless. Then, suddenly, he's looking at you as if he could eat you alive, and he pulls you on top of him as he kisses you, his hands roaming, and you completely forget to worry about anything for a while.

* * *

 

SIX MONTHS LATER...

"Two Mai Tais," you say as you come behind the bar, putting glasses in the sink and wiping off your tray. Dean grins as he leans to place a kiss on your tanned shoulder, winking as he turns to grab a bottle from the back bar.

"You got it," he answers, and you head back out to the tables with your new load of drinks.

"Here you go, girls," you say cheerfully, passing out the fruity drinks and one beer to the four college-age females, who smile in return and thank you.

"So - you're with him?" one of them asks, longingly staring at Dean mixing drinks in his tight black t-shirt.

You grin in return, nodding. "Oh, yeah." You wink as you turn to leave, hearing the mumbled remarks of how lucky you are, along with a few that are more on the pornographic side. Dean watches you as you walk to another table, his eyes traveling over your body, dressed in a bikini top and sarong, and you send another wink his way. He moves his eyes back to the shots he's making, that sexy smirk curving his lips, and you smile happily to yourself.

It hadn't taken much thought at all after the morning Dean became real for good. You never went back to the office, other than to clean out your desk. You told the boss off, grabbed your stuff, went to HR to sign everything you needed to cash out your pension and 401K, and that was it. You and Dean surfed the net until you found what looked like the perfect little Caribbean island, found a cute little bungalow, bought a little beach bar, and here you were, happier than you'd ever dreamed of being.

You're still smiling as you approach the bar again, emptying another tray of empty glasses and bottles. "Sex on the Beach and two Miller Lites," you say, and Dean lets out a little growl right next to your ear.

"Right after we close, baby," he whispers, and you giggle as he nibbles on your ear before getting your order ready.


End file.
